Caged Phoenix
by Fenikkusu Ai
Summary: Objective one: Capture enemy. Objective two: Get revenge on enemy. Objective three: Understand enemy. Wait... AsterZane.
1. Deranged

Disclaimer: I do no not own any component of Yu-Gi-Oh GX or any of its characters.

Author's Note: I'm sick and twisted to write this, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone! The idea of a Zane/Aster (Ryo/Edo) pairing is simply intriguing, and it makes a very good premise for a dark fic considering the two are enemies. I will warn you that there is torture and other violent-themed stuff ahead—along with some light yaoi. If this offends, please do not read.

----

"Welcome, Aster. I do hope you enjoy your new accommodations."

Aster Phoenix glared up at his captor with hard cobalt-blue eyes. Chains encircled his wrists.

"What pathetic crusade is this?"

Zane frowned before slapping the teenage boy across the face. "Stop acting so confident. You're trapped, Aster. You're _mine_."

"Are you going to kill me?" Aster's tone was conversational.

"Worse." Zane's features twisted in a villainous fashion. "I'm going to make you feel pain as payback for the pain you caused me."

"What pain?" Aster rubbed his red cheek.

Zane's eyes narrowed into slits. "The pain of…defeat."

All of a sudden, Aster burst out laughing—the most illogical thing to do in this situation.

"Because you lost?"

"One of the very few losses I've ever suffered. Get used to that word. Suffer." With this declaration, Zane viciously ripped open Aster's fine silk jacket. The silver buttons violently struck the wall.

"Zane, you're deranged!"

"No. I'm sadistic."

Aster was dumbfounded. Was this really Zane Truesdale? He'd heard he was ruthless, but…this was too much.

In vain, Aster played his only trump card. Figuratively speaking. "Someone will come looking for me. I'm not just anyone you can just knock out and cart away."

Zane smirked. "We _must_ do something about that ego, Aster." Almost as an afterthought, Zane's hands swept down Aster's chest.

"You're enjoying this a little too much, Zane." Aster was more nervous than he was willing to admit.

In answer, the former Obelisk Blue grinned. Darkly. "I am not straight, Aster. What do you think of that, hmm?"

Aster Phoenix was speechless.

"Why do you think I don't have a girlfriend?" he purred. "It's not simply because I'm choosy."

Aster was thunderstruck. "You're…"

Zane chuckled cruelly. "Don't worry. I'm not interested in your body. Well, not in that sense anyway. This is vengeance. Nothing more, nothing less."

Vengeance? What constitutes as that?"

"_Pain_. I'm going to torture you, Aster. I hope you're ready. Arrogant guys like you need to be put in your places."

There was no measure of control Aster could gain from the situation. All he could do was sit and wait.

_Don't struggle. Don't show fear…_

Evilly, Zane turned away into the darkness with the intention of beginning his "vengeance."

Aster tried to keep things light. "Can you at least tell me where we are?"

Zane was now stalking towards him with a bucket in his hand. "Can't you feel the movement?"

Aster was confused. "The movement?"

"We're on a freighter, idiot. _My_ freighter. No one even knows you're down here. No one who cares anyway."

"And…what's in the bucket?" Aster was buying time, but not enough of it.

"You'll find out," Zane assured him. "It's a rather common substance."

"Water?" Aster was guessing.

Zane indulged him with a wicked smile. "Yes. Boiling hot saltwater. The salt will add to the effect."

"What effect?" he mused out loud.

_Surely, he's not going to…_

"Are you going to give me a bath?"

Zane pulled out a long spoon out of the bucket. "You won't be a smart-ass much longer."

Without warning, without mercy, Zane dribbled the water onto his bare chest. A string of curious reactions then occurred. First, Aster found that he simply could not breathe when the blistering water made contact with his vulnerable flesh. The abrupt agony was that intense. Secondly, the burning reached an eye-tearing crescendo as it streamed all the way down.

"Like that? How's that for a victory shower?" Zane demanded with a nefarious glint in his murky blue-green eyes.

"N-n-ot bad," Aster stuttered. "But, the water's quality needs improvement."

"I'll use spring water next time," Zane commented dryly.

_Next time? _

The wave of pain that ensued later momentarily rid Aster of all thought. Zane was at it again.

_This is insane! How am I going to survive through this?_

_This isn't happening._

But, it was. In reality, Zane was quite efficient. He allowed the tiniest amounts of boiling water to mark his skin. A trickle there. A drop here.

"I say, Aster. This is the quietest I've ever seen you."

Drop.

_Hiss._

Aster groaned loudly before his retort. "Forgive me, Zane, but I have a lot on my mind right now."

An expression of pure hatred and annoyance flashed across Zane's face before he sent his fist hurtling into Aster's jaw. One second later, the former student was on his feet.

"I'm going to leave for a few hours, Aster. This isn't going as well as I expected."

The darkness was Aster's sole companion when his tormentor had prematurely left. Reeling from the agonizing experience, he let his head simply drop onto the wall behind him.

_I'm bleeding._

Indeed, a scarlet trail was currently rushing out of the corner of his mouth.

_Zane has a hell of a punch._

For the first time in his life in a while, Aster Phoenix was completely alone. No friends, no mentors, and not even parasitic fawning fans.

_Why isn't anyone looking for me yet?_

Zane couldn't keep it up for long. Sooner or later, he would be found. In fact, Aster would bet a sizeable sum that his face was already gracing headlines. A professional duelist couldn't just disappear. Unfortunately, the search could take days. And in a couple of days…

_Is this…my destiny?_

Balling his hands into fists, Aster forced himself to sit up straight. However, it would be useless to actually attempt breaking the chains.

_When _did _Zane become so demented?_

The hours ticked by as Aster rested his wounds. The burns, although painful, would heal. So long as he remained alive, which he still was.

_There's nothing I can't handle._

Creak…

The unmistakable sound of a steel door. Zane was returning. All too soon, his tall, slim figure sauntered into view.

"How's my little hero doing?"

"Better than ever. I even took a nap," he lied in a barely convincing tone.

"Really? Well, sleep time is over, Mr. Phoenix."

Aster shivered instinctively when he caught a glimpse of something metal glinting in his torturer's hand…


	2. Please

"What is it, Zane? Are you going to cut some meat?" Aster was still trying to inject humor in such a dire situation.

His captor was not amused. "You say that," he replied nastily. Zane's eyes bore the same infernal gleam that the lethal instrument held. Evidentially, Zane's manner had not changed in the few hours he had gone away.

"Feast your eyes on this, you proud bastard."

Aster couldn't break eye contact. He couldn't give his torturer that minute satisfaction. Seemingly reaching into the shadows themselves, Zane produced…a lemon. The pale yellow fruit was the brightest spot of color in the dim holding chamber.

Zane; just as much as a sadist as before; grinned broadly. His teeth gleamed for the briefest instant. "_Watch_."

Zane positioned the lemon on a convenient table, and in one smooth movement, his tormentor split the lemon in two. The knife clunked against the table with a deafening thud.

"Lemons and oranges have long since been revered on ships. In less recent times, sailors sucked the acidic juice for precious vitamins. Do you know what I'm going to do with this particular lemon?"

"Make lemonade?" Aster suggested gamely.

Zane's lips curled in disgust. "Wrong answer."

The knife was scraping along Aster's flesh before he could even complete his next breath. The surge of agony that ensued was sharp and total. And, the lemon juice that coated the knife didn't help matters.

"Zane, please stop," Aster gasped. "This will only make it harder on--"

Suddenly, Zane's hand reached out and caught Aster by the chin. He involuntarily flinched when his gaze met Zane's own. The eyes of his tormentor were cold. Lifeless.

"Aster," he whispered.

"Yes, Zane?" He couldn't prevent his voice from quaking.

"Say the word 'please' again."

Aster was entirely taken aback. The former student was completely devoid of compassion.

"No, I won't say it again."

"You will," Zane promised. "You will." Another thread of scarlet appeared when he drew the knife across Aster's abdomen.

In his chains, he grimaced at the intrusion.

_How long? How long will he do this?_

Aster had barely recovered from the second gash when yet another was carved into his chest. Horrified beyond belief, Aster looked to Zane one last time for some sort of conflicting emotion, but sadly, there was nothing but delight—sheer delight from making him suffer. Zane's eyes were indistinguishable from the knife slashes themselves so great was his concentration.

"Shallow cuts are best," he uttered whilst still moving the knife. "They cause little scarring and are nonfatal. As an added bonus, they're the best for what I have in mind next."

Aster was getting tired—mentally and physically. He thought of making another joke, but couldn't find the strength for it. His energy was draining fast. Worse, Zane could sense it.

"You can't win, Phoenix. Not here. When you're nothing but a broken little shell, and I tire of your screams, I will quite mercifully erase your existence from this earth. I hope an ocean burial is acceptable."  
_I won't…no…I can't break._

As it turned out, Aster's promise to himself would be hard to keep.

Aster groaned, sighed, and bit his own lip until it bled to keep from crying out. Zane grunted in approval.

"I'm impressed, Aster, but you have to scream sometime."

Zane's words proved true when one of the lemon halves was squeezed over his wounds. It was as if the afflicted flesh itself had just been set ablaze. His scream of pain that ensued was sure to have had reached the boat deck—and beyond.

"Yes," Zane breathed. "_That's_ what I've been dying to hear."

Whimpering, Aster twisted futilely against his restraints.

"You should thank me, Phoenix. I sterilized your wounds, didn't I?"

Aster refused to answer him. It wasn't a real question anyway.

"Not speaking, Phoenix? Are you so overcome by gratitude?"

Aster still refused to answer him.

Zane was starting to get annoyed. "Hmph."

Aster bowed his head. He didn't want to see his tormentor. Indeed, he wished he could just effortlessly drift away from the entire scene. However, Zane Truesdale was going to make sure Aster didn't snag one moment of peace.

"Don't get too comfortable—I think I missed a spot."

Another hoarse cry surged through his lungs when Zane emptied the other lemon half on his irritated cuts.

"Yes, that's it," Zane jeered. "Express your defeat. If only your fans could see you now."

It was as if his insides had been stoked into an inferno—an inferno stirred by rage.

_I'm not giving in._

It happened all so fast. One moment, Aster was about to burst into agonized tears, and the next, he was spitting into Zane's face. Only when the deed was done did he realize the consequences of his actions. The gob of saliva was now making a daring escape down the former student's cheek.

"You…"

Zane didn't even bother finishing the sentence. Backhanding Aster across the face seemed to be of utmost importance. Aster's head met the wall with ease from the sheer power of the blow.

"You had to do it, didn't you, Phoenix? You had to make me angry."

In a flash, he had redirected his smarting head to meet the murky poisonous pools that were his captor's eyes. Reptilian, they were. Rather haughtily, Aster glared at the man who thought he controlled his destiny. However, at the moment, Zane was not incorrect.

Zane glared back. Then, without a word, he got up, turned on his heel, and disappeared into the teeming darkness.

Suffering from utter exhaustion as well as intense physical punishment, Aster slumped back against the wall. He had scared off his torturer—for now. But, he would be back.

----

Author's Note: Poor Aster. Don't worry, this fic will take a turn for the better. This is by far the worst chapter though.


	3. Soft

Against all odds, Aster had dozed off soon after his torturer's welcome disappearance. Disturbingly, he was then shaken awake less than an hour later. Sensing another presence, Aster looked up in the artificial twilight only to be confronted by the vicious eyes of Zane. He jerked up in fright. Zane chuckled at the reaction.

"I do hate to disturb you, Mr. Phoenix, but I do believe you must be hungry by now."

Aster could not respond. He wasn't sure if his vocal cords were in working order in any event.

"Still not talking, huh? Tell me then, Aster, do you wish to eat or do you wish to starve?"

The anger was returning, and just in the nick of time. "Starve," he managed to ground out.

"Too bad."

Unceremoniously, Zane plopped down a bowl of rice porridge and a container of water. "Eat. If you don't, you'll wish you had."

"Why do you care if I live?" Even to the bitter end, Aster couldn't staunch his curiosity.

"Because I don't wish for you to die. Not so soon. I'm not finished with you yet." A self-satisfied smirk playing over his profile, Zane once more vanished from sight, leaving Aster alone.

_Bastard._

His mouth was now bone-dry and his lack of energy had grown more pronounced. Aster couldn't decide if he was hungrier or thirstier. Nevertheless, sustenance for both was a mere few inches away.

In the end, Aster didn't even have to think. In one desperate motion, he reached out for the water and downed it. His chains provided just enough leverage for that.

_What you don't realize, Zane, is that I don't want to die either._

But, considering his situation, his desire would be deemed rather strange by the casual observer.

He ate the rice porridge as if he had never tasted food before. Later, he slept. In his unconsciousness, Aster was provided a brief respite from the tortures he had endured. Unfortunately, it had to end when he could sleep no more. Weakly, Aster opened his eyes to take in his now familiar surroundings. However, Aster soon desperately wished he had never awoken at all. Sitting directly across from him was the monster himself, Zane.

"Good morning, Aster," Zane cruelly pronounced. "Did you sleep well?"

"Right up until now," he whispered.

Zane chuckled. "That's what I like about you, Phoenix—your endless supply of spirit."

Aster remained quiet. He wasn't about to waste his precious energy exchanging words with his tormentor.

"I've been watching you for at least an hour, Aster. Do you usually moan in your sleep?"

"Only when someone tortures me to the brink of death," he responded acridly.

"Death?" Zane raised a navy-black eyebrow. "Who said anything about death? Death is too good for you."

A silence passed between the two men. Zane stared at him for what seemed like hours.

"Aster?"

Aster was immediately alert. "What?"

"I fed you and allowed you to sleep. _Allowed_, Phoenix. Don't I deserve to be thanked?"

"Thanked?" The word echoed.

_Thanked? For what? Capturing me, beating me, and burning me for hours on end?_

Zane hadn't blinked once. "Well? Don't you want to know how you can thank me?"

"How?" Aster's head was beginning to ache.

Zane sprang to his feet instantly. "I'm so glad you asked."

Aster shuddered in his bondage.

_What is he going to ask me to do?_

As it turned out, Zane couldn't keep secrets long. Sadistically, he smirked.

"Scream."

As before, scorching hot agony took his breath away when Zane's hands came into contact with his already existing burns. Once more, a reverberating scream escaped his throat. Somewhere amidst the chaos and pain arose the unmistakable stench of lemons.

_Zane. He coated his hands with it…_

To confirm his guess, the former Obelisk Blue began to speak.

"Like it? The kitchen's full of them."

If it wasn't bad enough, Zane's hands began to roam—creating trails of liquid fire across his numerous wounds. In the tenderest areas, Zane's dexterous fingers would linger.

"Zane!" Aster shouted. "St-st-stop!"

"Beg me to." His torturer's voice had grown husky.

Aster was no fool. There _was _no pride anymore. "Please stop, Zane! Make it…_stop_…"

Zane complied, but not entirely. His hands moved from the afflicted skin, but they still remained on Aster's chest. They were exploring now. Almost gently so.

"Oh, but you do possess a beautiful body, Phoenix. I know it when I see it," Zane commented throatily.

A completely new fear pervaded Aster's being.

_What is Zane getting at?_

"Nice," he murmured. "Soft." Idly, Zane toyed with Aster's iron-gray hair.

Aster attempted to turn his head away, but his captor effortlessly ceased the movement with one light touch of his hand. Aster now had no choice but to align his gaze directly with Zane's own. What he found there astounded him. There was intensity, yes. Some of the old hatred, yes. Yet, swirled in the deepest contours of Zane Truesdale's eyes was wondrous amazement. Warmth.

Aster recognized danger when it presented itself. "Zane. Zane!" Desperately, he tried to bring the former student hero back to reality.

He frowned. "What's your problem, Phoenix? You think I'm going to go easy on you. _Well_?" As if realizing the true extent of his previous train of thought, the former Obelisk Blue more than made up for his transgression by slapping Aster across the face—hard.

"Fool," Zane hissed. "Fool."

Zane's control was visibly slipping. It was now more than apparent that Zane was fighting with some powerful inner urge. His breath came in harsh pants, and his hands were trembling.

"Don't go anywhere," Zane threw over his shoulder mockingly as he strode away. The infamous steel door slammed, and all sound died away.

_I'm alone again. _

_But, that's good isn't it? It's better when I'm alone. Nobody hurts me when I'm alone._

Still, the emotional strain lingered, and proof of its existence was leaking through Aster's fingers in the form of tears.

Quietly, he sobbed himself into submission.

----

Author's Note: This is a huge twist in the next chapter that Zane fans may or may not enjoy. I'm just going to say that things are going to get less abusive and more slashier.


	4. Broken

The tears had dried by the time Zane next "visited". This was more than fine with Aster. He would never willingly cry in front of him. Zane's visit passed in a normal fashion, or as normal as normal could get with his perpetual tormentor. More whimpers and weak screams had passed from his lips when Zane had decided to amuse himself with some matches. Aster was now certain he would bear scars. Another bowl of poor gruel, and then the blank space of unconsciousness.

_Three days. I've been here for three days…_

Aster had undeniably suffered in the past three days, but his spirit still remained intact—much to Zane's obvious dismay. Indeed, Aster had earned another punch when he had managed to kick Zane in the knee during a particularly brutal session. And, Zane could only get nastier.

_I wish I'd never dueled with him. I wish I'd never met him. Winning isn't worth this pain._

Creak…

The damned steel door. Aster was never sure if it meant more torment or a possible permanent relief from life itself.

_He won't kill me yet. He hasn't yet broken me._

Zane's heavy boots sounded on the concrete floor. His footsteps were unusually slow and halting today.

_Now, what?_

Oddly, Zane was taking his time approaching Aster. Usually, his footfalls were quick and light. The former Obelisk Blue literally _ran_ to him for more "amusement". Now, it was if the tormentor himself was dreading what was to come.

_Prepare yourself, Aster…_

Aster tugged on his chains until he was sitting with his back straight. He would not slouch in front of his torturer. Aster resolved that he would meet whatever horrors that lay ahead of him head-on. However, Zane still hadn't moved a muscle. He seemed rather…baffled. All of a sudden, Zane darted towards him with alarming speed. Aster's pride was once again forgotten as he crouched in his restraints to stave off the imminent agony. Less than two seconds later, Zane's hand was on one of the two metal cuffs. Aster's left.

_Is he going to break my hand? Make it hurt even worse?_

Clink.

His left arm dropped to his side. Nearly instantly, the other followed. Shock widened Aster's eyes.

_He's unlocking the chains._

This did not bode well It definitely did not bode well when Zane hauled Aster to his feet and then endeavored to carry him out of the room.

_What is this? A trick? More ruthless exploits of sadistic origins?_

_Maybe he'll throw me overboard._

"Aster." Zane's voice was trembling. "You've suffered enough."

Reflexively, he grabbed onto Zane's shoulder for some sort of support as he pondered his tormentor's next actions.

_This is it. The end of my life._

He closed his eyes then. He didn't wish to witness his own death. Unbidden, useless tears spilled from beneath his closed eyelids.

_I never surrendered. My father would be proud._

_Father, I will see you soon._

Doors were opening and closing. Zane was taking him somewhere across considerable distance—somewhere in all likelihood that would make his previous accommodations seem like a palace.

Aster could hold it in no longer. "Zane…"

"Be quiet," he tormentor snapped.

One last door was thrown open before Zane set Aster rather gently down on the floor. Moments later, Zane was resolutely engaged in the process of peeling the torn, bloodied remains of Aster's jacket from his abused chest. Soon, Zane had stripped him of all of his clothing. At this, Aster had to open his eyes even though he feared at what he might find right in front of him.

_No more hiding._

Surprisingly, it was neither as degrading nor as horrible as he expected it to be. Presently, Aster was slumped over in a cool green tiled bathroom. Aster barely had enough time to catch his breath before Zane began leading him towards a bathtub.

_He's going to drown me?_

But, this was not the case. This was not the case at all.

Aster easily broke through the surface of the temperate water. Strange how it wasn't boiling hot or freezing cold.

"Sit," Zane urged. "Let me…" His voice cracked.

"Zane?" Aster dared to swing his tentative gaze back at his tormentor only to discover tears blatantly shining on his face. Aster froze in shock.

_Zane's crying._

Indeed, Zane appeared defeated. Broken. As if _he_ had been the one who had been mercilessly tortured.

"Zane!" Aster gasped. "What's wrong?"

"You," he replied quietly. Mechanically, the former Obelisk Blue sat down on the lip of the bathtub. "I tried to break you. I tried and tried again. At first, I took great pleasure in hearing your screams. Now, I realize that I was just trying to break myself."

Zane then reached out for a cloth. He calmly shook it out of its clean folds, dipped it below the water's edge, and brought the dripping thing back up to immediately start scrubbing away at Aster's shoulder.

Aster jerked away. "No," he said firmly. "Don't do that. Not after--"

"I'm sorry, Aster." Zane's voice sounded genuinely mournful. "Please, allow me to clean the mess I personally created."

"How can I trust you?" Justified anger was now beginning to reign supreme in Aster's being. "In fact…"

Nude or not, Aster attempted to exit the bathtub, but soon crumpled in a heap. A raw slice of pain had ripped through his abdomen, and Zane's hand was right there waiting to catch his arm. Unfortunately.

"You can trust me, Aster. It's a shame you can't feel how I feel right now," he enigmatically commented.

"I could say the same," Aster whispered.

When Zane resumed his scrubbing, Aster did not protest. He couldn't—not in the shape his body was currently in. For a few seconds, Aster was totally aware he was naked in the same room with another man, but didn't have the strength to grow embarrassed. The worst part of the bath that inevitably followed was when Zane proceeded to wash his heavily marked chest. Involuntarily, Aster hissed in discomfort.

"Take deep breaths," Zane advised. "The soap will cleanse your wounds."

Resigning himself, Aster let Zane do what he would. Still wary, he tensed when Zane tipped his head backwards into the rapidly cooling water.

"I'm just going to wash your hair," Zane rasped.

Within minutes, Aster's hair had been lathered and rinsed—with his former tormentor's own shampoo no less. Suddenly, the teal-haired youth spoke.

"You didn't break, Aster. No matter what I did to you, you just kept bouncing back. You're stronger than I was, Phoenix. I broke far too easily."

Aster let the compliment pass. He was too tired and confused from the whole ordeal, not to mention this recent turn of events, to respond.

"Here. Take this." Zane's voice had cut through the haze that was starting to fog Aster's senses. "Dry yourself, and I'll be waiting."

Aster managed to grab the towel before his former captor left the room.


	5. Sleep

Unsteadily, Aster attempted the usually simple act of standing up. As he expected, the old agony assaulted his chest immediately in a great burst of fire. However, this time, he would not be daunted. At the moment, all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep, but unfortunately, that would have to wait. Gritting his teeth, Aster forced himself to climb over the rim of the bathtub whereupon he fell to his knees on the hard linoleum squares below. Towel in tow, Aster ignored the new pain in his joints and began to dry himself with the towel Zane had so "graciously" left behind.

_When will I even be able to walk? _

_What will ultimately become of me?_

Brushing all questions aside, Aster rubbed the moisture out of his hair and dried his skin briskly. In the end, he wrapped the towel around his waist for some sense of modesty before making a dive for the door. He then hauled himself up by the glass doorknob itself. Once he was more or less on his feet, he pushed it open. Zane was waiting on the other side. Alarm lit his former tormentor's eyes.

"Aster, you're hurt."

"Yeah. No thanks to _you_." Resolutely, Aster took a step forward even though the effort nearly set him spiraling back towards the ground.

"Aster, you can't move yet. You need to rest. Here." Zane reached out his arms.

"Keep your damned hands off of _me_!" Aster snarled with as much force as he could muster in his weakened state.

"Stop being so prideful," Zane hissed in response. The former Obelisk Blue took the liberty of grabbing onto him anyway. "I should have realized that you were still to injured to walk on your own. Here. Let me take you to…"

"The furnace?" Aster spit out angrily. "The boat deck?"

"Aster, I have no designs on your life." Zane's usually calm voice sounded rather strained, as if overwrought with some powerful emotion. "You can trust me."

"You were my torturer, and now I'm automatically supposed to trust you. Forgive me if I don't," Aster ground out as Zane propelled him down the corridor. The teal-haired youth seemed incapable of leaving his side.

"Why did you stop torturing me?" Aster's tone had taken on a hardened edge. "Did you run out of methods? Did it begin to _bore_ you?"

"Crisis of conscience," Zane interjected sharply. Aster couldn't help but notice how Zane's hands gripped considerably tighter around both his waist and elbow. "We're almost there," he continued needlessly.

"Zane, where are you taking me?"

Right in front of his nose, his former tormentor swung open another door. Then, for the first time in days, Aster found himself being led into a truly comfortable atmosphere that bordered on opulent. A gold carpet greeted his feet. White painted furniture that had been polished to a mirror-sheen surrounded a rather large bed that had been piled with rose-shaded sheets. To complete the illusion of grandeur was a hung crystal chandelier that decked the room with muted sparkles.

Zane felt the necessity to elaborate. "My bedroom."

Aster turned back to look at his former and seemingly present captor. "What _else_ are you going to do to me?"

"Nothing," Zane replied firmly. "You will sleep here. You're near falling over, Phoenix."

"Don't use that name," Aster ordered wearily. "You called me that when you…" The imaginary stench of lemons still lingered in his nostrils.

"I understand."

Zane was coaxing him to the mattress. Once in reaching distance, Aster immediately flopped his body onto the fluffy bed. He hurt everywhere. Zane, having just released his victim, looked on.

"Sleep, Aster. Sleep."

Aster did. It mattered little if his same-sex oriented friend was in the room or not. He was that tired. Bathed in an almost heavenly warmth; Aster remained asleep for a good long spell until he was awakened by a sudden creaking as an unmistakable weight was added to the bed.

_Zane's here._

_What is he takes me back to that torture chamber?_

Aster would die. He would just die. If Zane hadn't released him when he did, Aster was certain that his will, his mind, and his spirit would have been indistinguishable from broken glass. One more juicy lemon, and Aster knew he would have been begging for death.

_He could still kill me. He could kill me right now. He…_

Aster's thoughts ceased as a lean arm looped around his overused chest. Zane's arm. If that wasn't bad enough, something else was invading the crook of his neck. Without warning, the top of Aster's metallic tresses was kissed by the teal-haired youth himself.

_What?_

If Aster was nervous before, he was outright terrified at present. To be fair, Aster wasn't usually the type to take any assault lying down. However, he quickly changed his principles in this situation.

_The crazy bastard thinks I'm asleep after all. Why ruin it?_

Zane sighed contentedly and mercifully retreated to his side of the bed. Aster was left stunned.

_Why did he do that? Does he desire me in some sort of sick, twisted way…?_

Aster was left feeling nauseous. It wasn't as optimal situation to be placed in—hurt, immobilized, and trapped on a floating prison with a complex formerly vengeful villain that may end up slaying him anyway. Or, some _other_ depravity.

In spite of the overwhelming negatives in his favor, Aster escaped back into his slumber to blot out the sensation of that fiendish kiss.

* * *

Author's Note: Zane and Aster will not get together--just some very light stuff. 


	6. Forever

Aster groggily opened his eyes. It had grown pitch-black in the room since he had fallen asleep. Brushing his hair off his forehead, Aster allowed his eyes to adjust to the inkiness. Zane must've switched the light off sometime during the night.

_Zane…_

The abuser was nowhere to be found. Apparently, he had grown restless and was now taking an early morning stroll. Naturally, Aster wasn't exactly comfortable with the fact that his captor was on the move whilst he lay helpless and unconsciousness in bed.

Aster knew where he stood. Though, he was technically alone and unfettered, he was not tempted to explore or look for a way off the floating prison. Not in his condition. Besides, where could he go when he was surrounded by saltwater?

_Zane has to go ashore sometime. That's when I'll have my chance._

Abruptly, the darkened chandelier above suddenly crackled with fiery light. Zane had returned. Unflinchingly, Aster warily watched his former torturer come towards him with a silver-serving tray. He smiled; actually _smiled_.

"Good morning," Zane greeted him. "I hope you're hungry for some breakfast."

Aster declined to answer. He hadn't eaten a good full meal in days. In spite of the poor rice gruel, Zane had given him in captivity; starvation was starting to gnaw at his insides all the same. With a sort of aplomb, Zane set the tray in front of him and lifted the domed lid. Scrambled eggs and a fillet of fish revealed themselves to him. Instantly, Aster grew ravenous.

"Eat. You need your strength."

With this command, Zane left the bedroom. Aster stared down at the meal in front of him with amazement.

_Zane's being…compassionate. _

_What is he planning?_

Aster wasn't going to be fooled or blindsided. He was not going to become the stereotypical victim that relied on the whims and kindnesses of his captor.

However, he did appreciate the food. And if the platter were poisoned, well, at least he would find peace and security eventually.

The taste of butter caressed his tongue as he took the first bite of the pinkish fish he identified as salmon. Within minutes, he had devoured nearly all of it. Ignoring the nauseousness rippling through his stomach, Aster forced himself to eat slower. After starving for the better part of a week, his digestive system was reeling from the rich food.

At last, he cleaned his plate. Settling back on the bed, Aster allowed the food room to digest as he examined his surroundings for the umpteenth time. The sole means of entry was the intimidating white painted door to the left and Zane most definitely lurked somewhere behind it. _No_ way out. No way to remain unseen.

_I wonder where Zane is now?_

As if answering his question, the abductor himself walked through the door. The contours of his mouth were creeping upwards.

"Good, you're finished eating. Now, how about getting dressed?"

Aster's imminent response of dismay was cut off when Zane tossed some clothes onto the bed that consisted of black jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. Definitely from the former student's own personal wardrobe. Aster never cared for the color himself. However, this time, he had no choice in the matter.

"Is there anything else I can get you, Aster?" Zane sounded so achingly sincere.

Aster swallowed hard. He really had eaten too fast. "No. I'm fine, Zane."

A dark look entered Zane's eyes. "No. You're not fine. But, I wish to remedy that Now, I'll just turn this on and allow you some rest in private."

Aster cringed as Zane swept past him only to breathe a sigh of relief as the teal-haired duelist clicked on a TV that had escaped his view. However, his ears were already tuning in when Aster heard his own name being spoken.

"Aster Phoenix disappeared on Tuesday night—seemingly without a trace. He is feared dead. It has now been four days since his abduction. Police still have no leads on his present location. Anyone with any information should contact our news station immediately. Our number is…"

Aster blanked the rest out, barely glancing at the prim and proper anchorwoman onscreen in her pastel pink suit and neat pageboy hair. He gazed over at Zane forlornly.

"They think I'm dead."

"And, here you sit," Zane countered.

Aster could tell that the news report had rankled his captor, even if only for a moment.

"Zane, when are you going to let me--"

"_Soon_," he hissed rudely. "Trust me, even if it seems impossible."

_It does._

Thankfully, his hovering captor once again exited the room. The sound of the TV was now innocently breaking up the silence. Aster chanced to look at the screen to see himself grinning back at him—happy and healthy. Disgusted with the photograph and his current state of affairs both, Aster purposefully got up and turned the droning thing off.

With trembling fingers, Aster dressed himself in Zane's clothes. Truth be told, he didn't want to soak up his tormentor's aura or anything else of his, but, as usual, he had no say in the matter.

Right before Aster proceeded to pull the shirt over his head, he glanced down at his still smarting chest and nearly cried out. Outstanding puffy red gashes stood sharp against the creaminess of his skin. First and second-degree burns littered his torso—creating an infernal quilt of pink and crimson patches. A snapshot of torture.

Stifling a sob, Aster put the shirt on and the horrible sight was masked. Temporarily, of course.

_I'm definitely going to scar._

Aster tried not to be vain, but the memory would never disappear. In a way, Zane had branded him. Left his mark for years to come. _Ruined_ him. Forever. It was just as much as a physical trauma as it was a mental trauma.

_Why, Zane? Why?_

* * *

Author's Note: I'm going to end this here. Lot of angst. There will be a very light yaoi scene in the next chapter, and that's it. There are only two chapters remaining in this fic, mainly because I want to work on other projects. 


	7. Pity

Aster had been told to take it easy on the orders of Zane himself. Truth be told, Aster was getting bored—fast—in this opulent bedchamber that had been bestowed upon him. Of course, he knew that this bedroom could be none other than Zane's, but he would let that fact pass. The TV stood silent on the high dresser top as Aster finished his second of the day. In spite of this nourishment, he was still profoundly exhausted.

_Sleep._

That's what he needed. Sleep.

Even though he had only been awake for six hours, Aster once again drifted into deep unconsciousness. He awoke two hours later just when it was growing dark outside. Naturally, Aster had no access to the outside, but the clock confirmed that it was 6:08. Sunset.

_What am I going to do?_

Nothing. That's what. Unfortunately, Zane had covered all the bases.

Suddenly, there came an unwelcome sensation as Aster laid there in bed. A pair of hands was skimming along Aster's torso; pulling up his hated black shirt as they ascended upwards. Aster grimaced in discomfort as old wounds were aggravated and cried out in uncertain apprehension.

"Zane?" he breathed.

He guessed correctly.

"I'm here, Aster. Don't be afraid," Zane quite literally crooned.

Aster bit his lips as Zane's fingers made contact with various burns and lacerations he had personally created. Aster fearfully craned his neck upwards to view the surprising expression of wonderment on Zane Truesdale's face.

"I did this to you," he murmured to himself. "I must truly have transformed into a monster."

Aster knew not what to say, save that he'd probably end up just agreeing with Zane's own self-definition anyway.

"You perfect skin—flawed beyond repair. What can save it now?"

"Plastic surgery?" Aster was joking again. It felt…good. At least he was now aware that his humor had not been burned out along with his flesh.

Intensity flared in Zane's blue-green eyes right before his hands began to physically stroke the upper reaches of Aster's chest. Aster flinched. These caresses were not normal. To him, in any event. His worst suspicions were unfolding right in front of his startled sapphire eyes as Zane's lips attacked his neck.

"_Zane_," he gasped. Aster was both embarrassed and shocked beyond belief. "What on earth are you doing?"

Zane broke the kiss momentarily to gaze up into his eyes. "Making it up to you."

Before Aster could reply, Zane's mouth was working its way up his chin. Soon, Zane's mouth would claim in his own. If this wasn't disturbing enough, his tormentor's hands were becoming more…intimate.

Like a cornered animal, Aster wrenched his head away just before his lips and the lips of his former torturer yet to-be rapist met.

"Zane, stop! I don't want this! _Please_. Don't hurt me anymore—not like this!" Aster was vaguely ashamed that he was reduced to pleading so quickly.

Obediently, Zane disengaged himself. For a moment, he stared into Aster's tearing eyes.

"You have a girlfriend, Aster? Is that it?"

"No!" Aster threw back defensively, "but I still don't want this. I'm not involved with guys, Zane. At all."

"Pity," Zane commented quietly. "But, perhaps if you gave me a chance…"

"No." Aster's reply was firm.

How could he even expect that I would ever want… 

Zane looked vaguely hurt as he dragged himself off Aster's body at long last. To himself, Aster breathed a sigh of relief.

_At least, Zane still has some scruples left._

Then, Zane's voice invaded the brief sanctuary of his thoughts.

"I know what you want, Aster, and I'm going to give it to you."

Aster swallowed hard. "And, what is that, Zane?"

"Your freedom. Tomorrow, I'm going to let you go."

"You are?" Aster blurted out.

Zane frowned. "Well, I can't keep you forever. The authorities won't rest until they find you in one state or another."

Regardless of the risk that Aster might be endangering his own safety, he had to ask his question. "So, you're not killing me then?"

"I never was seriously considering it," Zane returned rather offhandedly. "I wouldn't mind an extra week of your company, but this will be for the best." Zane was acting as if this had been a wonderful holiday that Aster had willingly taken for his enjoyment.

Aster's mouth was moving before his brain. "But, what will I tell people? That I was kept a prisoner for five days, and now, I'm perfectly fine? Am I supposed to say that Zane Truesdale, top graduate of Duel Academy, was the perpetrator?"

He had struck a nerve. It was evident in how frosty and serious Zane's features became. Indeed, he bore a striking resemblance to how he had appeared when he had been below in the basement whilst cutting lemons for Aster's daily torture. Not good.

"Aster, don't. _Don't_ mention my name. It's not if anyone will believe you anyway. Besides, what would it accomplish? Putting me behind bars would be hardly satisfying after all the horrors I've inflicted on you."

"Justice would be served," Aster stated boldly. Bitter memories of his own injustice—and his father's as well—were flooding his mind. So much that he couldn't even think straight. "You deserve to be punished."

Zane heaved a heavy sigh before turning his gaze to the ceiling as if seeing it could somehow alleviate his own obvious unrest. "I am being punished. Trust me. There are other methods of retribution besides prison bars."

It then dawned on Aster that his own prison guard was offering him the precious key of liberty. Here, his keeper was actually considering it, and here he was testing his temper.

_I'm the worst idiot alive._

Aster struggled to regain his composure.

_It's still not right. I'm going to tell everywhere as soon as I escape. With or without Zane's permission. Everyone has the right to know how wicked he has become._

As if catching wind of Aster's train of thought, Zane fixed him with a freezing glare. "If you tell, _Mr. Phoenix_, I just may have to wreak vengeance upon you. _Again_. And next time, you'll stay here with me forever.

Zane left Aster to ponder that as he strolled out of the room.

* * *

Author's Note: I made Zane nastier than I wanted him to be, but then again, he _is_ the villain. The idea of a forced lemon made my skin crawl, so I ended it there. It may seem silly, but Aster's just too sweet. The next chapter will be the last. 


	8. Heal

_Ring. Ring._

Wearily, Aster ignored his cell phone—for the third time that morning. He'd only arrived back in the "real world" three days ago, and the press was already merciless.

_Everyone wants to know the truth…_

"Here's your tea, Mr. Phoenix."

The server set down the delicate yet sturdy teacup. Aster grimaced when he spied the lemon wedges that had been placed on a neighboring plate.

…_but they won't._

A slight tremor shook his hand as he tentatively picked up a slice of the yellow fruit. In the background, the cell phone was still ringing incessantly.

Forget _my name._

The cell phone quieted. Breathing a sigh of relief, Aster suddenly squeezed the lemon. As the familiar tangy odor rose up to meet him, the clear acidic juice harmlessly coated his fingertips. He grimaced all the same. If he closed his eyes, the memories just came flooding back…

_That sneering mouth. Those reptilian eyes. The knife invading my flesh._

Aster's eyes popped open. The cell phone was ringing again.

_I hope I don't have flashbacks_.

Giving in at last, Aster raised the phone to his ear and struck the button that would put him in touch with the reporter on the other end. Sure enough, a breathless, girlish voice began rattling around immediately in his eardrum. Merely half-hearing her, he quickly agreed to whatever interview she wanted to host. Why refuse?

_Maybe talking about it will help._

Except Aster _hadn't_ talked about it. To this point, he had given only the barest details possible. He had _not_ identified the perpetrator. He had _not_ revealed what had happened to him. Perhaps he never would. However, this wasn't good enough for the press. Aster supposed that's why he was now being bombarded with calls every other minute while trying in vain to eat breakfast.

_I'm just grateful to be alive._

Zane, as direct as ever, had knocked him out again with…something Aster couldn't quite remember. If he could guess, he supposed that the former Obelisk Blue had snuck the sleep-inducing substance into his food. After Aster had eventually awoken, he was surprised to find himself on land—warmly dressed—and surrounded by spectators. Zane had indeed kept his promise.

_But, will I keep mine?_

_Ring. Ring…_

Vaguely deliberating if Aster should throw the cell phone against the nearest wall; Aster managed to finish his meal and generally continued with life until the dreaded moment where he was situated in a cushion across from the smiling blonde interviewer who made it a point to shake out her hair at every opportunity.

"Welcome to our show, Mr. Phoenix."

He smiled politely. "Thank you. It's good to be here."

Ordinarily, he would have put on his debonair hero routine, but, given the circumstances he had been placed in, the public would have to go wanting. Even now, in front of a crowd of teeming people, under the harsh glowing stage lights; Aster could feel his "war wounds" twinge in pain. He hadn't yet shown them to anyone, and he wasn't about to now. Disrobing on national television would only fuel his irrational shame.

The questions flew past one after another. Wearing a charming grin as if nothing bad at all had transpired, Aster answered them. He then relayed the tale of how he had been knocked unconscious and kept aboard a ship. He didn't elaborate much else.

Then, the inevitable, groundbreaking inquiry came hurtling toward him.

"Tell us honesty, Aster. Did you know the kidnapper? Could you tell us possibly who he is?"

Aster was beginning to feel faint. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, and it most definitely was not from the burning lights overhead.

_He's watching, isn't he?_

This particular interview was being televised across the country. No doubt Zane had cloistered himself in a dark room—dark as his soul—and was watching his faltering reactions right this moment.

_I couldn't survive it. Not again. I would die. I would forever cease to see the light of the day…_

Zane would do it. He _would_ hunt him down. Aster _would_ suffer the consequences.

_He only hates me. I don't think he'd personally hunt just anyone down for mere sport._

_Still, shouldn't the general population know that someone like Zane exists?_

Aster lowered his head. He knew what he was about to say, and he knew he was going to hate himself afterwards.

"I don't know what he looks like. He kept his face masked."

"Really? No clues whatsoever?"

His stomach churned in protest, but the lacerations that had been carved above the organ hurt far worse.

"None."

Visibly a bit disappointed, the interviewer raised other inquiries. However, Aster did not tell her about the tortures. Or the world, for that matter. Finally, the interview simply tapered off and lost speed on its own. In fact, it concluded on a rather sour note. With no actual "dirt," his story would soon fade into memory when something more sensational hit the airwaves. Being captured and bound on a boat with not the vaguest inkling whom your attacker was—while traumatic—wasn't very exciting.

Carrying a heavy heart, Aster walked out of the studio and into the chilly night. Right at that moment, he silently counted his blessings. The wounds would heal. The public would forget.

And, in time, so would he.

* * *

Zane switched off the television set with firm conviction. Seeing his recent obsession on the screen had admittedly given him goosebumps, but now, he just felt disgusted.

_How could I have even put such a plan into effect_?

Mentally, Aster had suffered some long-term damage, even if each and every wound healed completely.

_I must have been out of my mind._

However, as much as Zane regretted the act, Zane didn't regret the person he had become. His rather nonchalant hand would still hurt people, just in different ways.

_Would I have honored my promise if Phoenix had ratted me out?_

Zane knew he would have. Without hesitation. It had been both entirely enjoyable and so genuinely heart-wrenching at the same instant to see those haunted blue eyes jerk about nervously; hands clasped in his lap, self-conscious smile wavering under the media's harsh and uncaring glare. This apparent trepidation had increased tenfold when asked _the_ question. Zane himself had grown rather nervous and unusually alert during that anxious break where Phoenix observably weighed his options.

_I'm glad he kept his word. Now, I can move on to more important matters. _

Almost furtively, Zane looked down at the bed—the empty bed. A bit saddened, he sighed depressedly.

_It would have never worked out. You don't fall in love with your enemy overnight._

With nothing else left to ponder, Zane crawled onto the bed, ducked under the covers, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

Author's Note: That's it! First off, thanks to those who read and reviewed this fic. Second, I know the ending might be disappointing for some, but I felt it really wrapped up the whole experience for both characters. 


End file.
